The First and Only Time
by Master Maple
Summary: They've both decided that this one-night stand of theirs will be their first and only time. Except for all those other first and only times. A collection of Night's Watch morning-afters.
1. Chapter 1

_**The First and Only Time**_

Winter had really expected to feel something deeper than mild annoyance when she woke up that morning. Shame and regret, maybe. Heart-stopping shock. Or just some of her usual cold fury. But when she blearily opened her eyes to the dawn light streaming through the window and groggily rolled over to face the snoring mop of whiskey-scented dark hair on the other side of the bed, all she could do was conjure up a huff of annoyance.

"Qrow." She muttered, shaking his shoulder. The Huntsman stirred, sleep-fogged red eyes meeting her piercing blue ones. He looked as bad as she felt, obviously battling with a hangover similar to the one that was currently drilling monotonously into her skull. He groaned and sat up.

"Whazzat?" He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his pained expression growing more guarded when he saw her. "Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_ is right." Winter replied, wincing as her head throbbed painfully. "Let me save you some time. you and I bumped into each other at a bar- don't bother asking which one, I don't remember- we had a fight, then we had a few drinks, I was in the mood, I invited you back to my place." The rogue nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Right. I remember now."

"Good." Winter groaned as the sunlight lanced into her eyes, spurring a new round of throbbing headaches. "I'm sure you've done something like this before, so I take it you know what happens next." Qrow grunted his assent and half-crawled, half-rolled out of bed. He fumbled for his clothes and started to get dressed. Winter squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in the pillow to shut out the sun's hateful rays. She was dimly conscious of the _clinking_ of his belt as he wrestled with the buckle.

Silence, for a moment. Then Qrow coughed. "So was I any good?" "Satisfactory." She replied, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I've certainly had worse." Qrow made no reply, though she just _knew_ that if she looked at him right now he'd have that stupid, smug grin on his face. Even tired and hungover, Qrow Branwen was a better irritant than pepper spray.

She groaned a little at the _clomp-clomp_ of his boots, her heart sinking at the realization that he was probably scuffing up her floors to hell and back. _Idiot._

She hears the soft _click_ of her door opening, the gentle _creak_ of the hinges feeling like nails down a chalkboard. "Hey, Ice Queen." Qrow's voice rings out, making her stomach heave and sparking a coal of fury in her heart. She would get up and kick his ass right now, if only she were sober. _If only._

" _What?"_ She snaps, wishing that he was within throwing distance so she could knock him out cold with the bedside lamp. There's a brief pause. "You were pretty _satisfactory_ too. Just thought you should know."

 _Oh, for a sword and a clear head right now._ "Get the hell out of my apartment, you drunk."

"Alright." And just like that, the door clicks shut and he's gone. Peace has once more returned to her life. Winter is now conscious of just how parched she is. Rising to get a glass of water from the kitchen is _agony_ , moreso when a glance reveals just how hard she's going to have to work to get her hardwood floors pristine again.

 _He'd better leave his boots at the door next time._

It's a stupid, drunken thought from a mind that isn't functioning correctly, because this _will not_ happen again. He was far too _irritating_. In every single way. Winter would happily spend the rest of her life in a romantic dry spell if it meant avoiding his stupid drunken teasing and his murder-inducing grin. She coughs out a brief laugh as she fills up a glass.

" _Next time,_ " She scoffs, taking a sip. " _As if."_

* * *

The next time it happens, they are mercifully undisturbed by the evils of the morning sun. When Qrow sits up in bed and opens his eyes, he's at first confused as to where he is. Which is nothing out of the ordinary, he supposes, but there's also confusion as to what woke him up. Whatever room he's in is cool, quiet and mostly in darkness, mercifully sparing him from the worst effects of his hangover, though it still throbs insistently in the back of his mind. He rubs the back of his head and lets out a low whistle. He must have had quite a lot to drink last night for it to have done this much of a number on him.

 _Alright, where am I?_ He mentally goes through the steps. He's in a bed with slightly itchy linen sheets, and he's naked. From what he can tell he still has all his limbs and internal organs. As his eyes adjust to the dark he can see items of clothing spread out across the sparsely-furnished room. There's one of his boots, a flash of crimson he can identify as his cape; in front of the bed is a small flatscreen TV, a couple of chairs in the corner- _oh._

 _It's a motel room_. The door is to his right, a window next to it with the blinds tightly drawn, and what he _thinks_ is a bathroom just out of sight. He can see a faint patch of light spilling through the crack under the door, the only illumination in the place. Then he realizes what woke him up; faintly there's the sound of the shower running, and if he strains to hear there's a woman's voice mingled with the running water. She's singing, and he can't quite make out the words but it seems to be a jazzy kind of number.

So he brought someone back with him. _Who?_ He quickly looks down at his palm where he usually writes down the name of his current one-night stand. That's the system he uses to avoid getting kicked out when he's too smashed to remember in the mornings. It usually works, provided he keeps his hands busy so whoever he's with doesn't see it. But there's no name written down this time. _Damn, drunk me really dropped the ball._

There's a face, though, slowly emerging from his hungover mind. It's hazy, merely a blurred collection of half-remembered features and still images from the night before. Until he idly wonders why there's a snow-white jacket slung neatly over the back of one of the chairs, and the image suddenly emerges with vivid and unwanted clarity. _Oh shit._

To make matters worse, he hears the bathroom door opening right as the realization hits him. So, Qrow defaults into the most basic survival instinct he knows. In an instant, his body is compressed into a tiny, feathered frame, and as Winter emerges with her hair wrapped in a towel he can only manage a startled _squawk._ The look on her face is priceless, he has to admit.

" _Really?"_ she says, paralyzed from the shock of a mid-sized corvid standing on the pillow. "I knew you were strange, but… _that_ is something else." Qrow struggles to slow down his breathing and _focus_ , and with another jolt he is once again a two-legged featherless creature with opposable thumbs. Before he can explain, the Specialist scoops up her jacket, tosses the towel in his direction, and heads for the door.

He doesn't really have a response for this, so he figures he'll default to banter. "Nice singing, Ice Queen." He says, and Winter pauses in her headlong rush for the door. She fixes him with a steely glare and responds with a few mumbled obscenities and a surprisingly _graphic_ hand gesture for someone so _classy_. Then she's walking out the door, and over the noise of the traffic outside he hears her mention something about him picking up the bill.

 _Yeah. Classy. She has a one-night stand with you in a motel room, cusses you out and then leaves you the tab. Real classy._

As Qrow gets to his feet and staggers towards the shower, he mumbles a few choice obscenities of his own about Winter Schnee.

"Never again." He growls as he tries to figure out the hot water. He thinks to himself that it's the best idea he's had in years.

* * *

Next time there is no gentle awakening for either of them. Winter's eyes shoot open and she's on the floor crawling towards what looks like a bathroom before she even has a chance to register that whatever she had to drink last night is not agreeing with her.

Fortunately her assumption proved correct and she barely makes it to the toiled before she pukes violently. As she rocks back on her heels and takes a quick breath, she finds it within herself to thank God that Qrow (she _knows_ it's him at this point, because no other one-night prospect would have possibly coaxed her into drinking whatever vile stuff is currently turning her stomach inside out) isn't awake now to see this.

And then he starts laughing. She feels at this moment that she's reached some kind of pinnacle of suffering; if Cuts Week back in Specialist Training was the closest she'd ever get to Hell, Winter decides that this must be what purgatory is like- waking up every few weeks in a different room but in the same situation, always reluctant bedfellows with a man she despised but couldn't seem to get away from. Trapped by his infuriating ability to get under her skin and entertain her in the sack.

She bends down and retches again as she hears a Scroll buzz in the bedroom. When Qrow speaks again, she is surprised by the softness in his voice. "Hey, Firecracker. What's up?" Winter chances a glance away from the toilet and sees Qrow standing in the open doorway, shirtless and with his Scroll pressed to his ear. His smile is not its usual smug self but something more gentle- full of pride and genuine good humor. She starts to gape but another twist of her gut forces her to turn back to the toilet. She can hear him speaking as she coughs and wheezes.

"Today's the big day, huh? Yeah, of course I wouldn't miss the chance to give you a call." _What's so important about today? Who's Firecracker?_ Qrow chuckles softly. "That's me. Best uncle in the universe. How'd the first day go? Got a team yet?" A team… Qrow's got two nephews, doesn't he? No, nieces. Maybe he's calling one of them. Why?

Wait a minute…

Instantly Winter feels horrible. _Of course._ Yesterday was the first day of class at Beacon! _I should call Weiss,_ she thinks, but the very thought of having to move makes her queasy. Qrow laughs loudly behind her. " _She exploded_? _Really?_ Well, who did she bump into?" She turns in time to catch the blood drain from Qrow's face, though he keeps his voice level. " _Weiss… Schnee?_ As in one of those Schnee company bigwigs?"

As Winter pukes again, she decides that the universe has the absolute sickest sense of humor.

Qrow whistles. "Wow. A crater in the courtyard? Is she okay?" She can't hear the response, but Qrow's face visibly brightens. "That's good. Listen, I've got to go now, but I'll call Ruby after the initiation. Don't worry about it, Yang. You'll do just fine." His eyes soften again, and Winter swears she hears him choking up. "I'm very proud of you. Have a good one, Firecracker."

He slides his Scroll closed with a _click_ and catches Winter's guilty expression. For a moment he pauses, and without a word he turns back into the bedroom. Winter can hear him shuffling around as she turns back to the toilet and pukes again. She rocks back on her heels, feeling slightly purged of whatever foul concoction she had last night, glancing up to find Qrow standing over her, offering her Scroll. She hopes the grateful expression she shoots him makes up for the fact that she can't stomach saying thank-you.

Weiss is saved at the top of her list of contacts, saving her a lot of fumbling. She taps the call button and holds it up to her ear as it rings. Finally, Weiss picks up. "Winter?"

At the sound of her voice she feels her usual sternness slipping away. "Hello, Wiess" she says warmly. "I thought I'd call, since your first day at Beacon is over." Weiss' tone brightens immediately. "It's wonderful to hear from you, Winter! I was hoping you'd call."

"Of course I would. It's a big day for you, after all." She responds, her younger sister's enthusiasm infectious. "How have you fared so far?" Weiss lets out a huff. "It was alright, I suppose. It's just- well, there was this _brat_ who practically bowled me over on my way to drop off my luggage! She almost blew me up when she sneezed and set off some dust in the air. A whole vial, Winter! Destroyed on my first day!"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Winter replies, resting her head against the wall. "But I'm sure things will improve when it comes time to demonstrate your skills." Instantly Weiss' enthusiasm roars back to life. "But of course! The initiation's in a few hours. _I'm_ aiming to be a team leader!"

Now was perhaps the time to rein her sister in a little. Winter doesn't want her to get so competitive she ruins any chance she has of making friends. "That's all well and good, but first you have to pass. You have a lot of standards to live up to." Weiss' crestfallen sigh echoes in the darkened room. "But I'm sure that you're more than capable of reaching them." She continues, smiling once more. "I have to go now, Weiss. I'll talk to you later. And…" She pauses for a moment, running her hand across the smoothly tiled floor. When she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. "I'm proud of you. For doing this on your own. I know father doesn't approve, but… I believe in you."

"Thank you." Weiss softly responds. "I'll talk to you soon, Winter. Wish me luck!" The Specialist chuckles. "You won't need it." She says, and hangs up. When she puts the Scroll to one side she's surprised to see Qrow crouched next to her. "Scoot." He grumbles, trying to shoo her away. Winter tries to stand, but another surge of nausea drives her back to the toilet.

Qrow and her both vomit at almost the same time, and for a remarkably serene moment Winter accepts that this is absolute rock bottom. She need not fear getting any lower than where she is now. _What the hell did she drink last night?_

Qrow gasps for air and groans. When he speaks, it is with the voice of a soul in agony. "This is a new low for both of us." "Agreed." Winter mutters, feeling queasy beyond belief. When they speak next, they do so in harmony and for once, in complete agreement.

" _We have to stop doing this."_

* * *

The next time it happens, something is _off._ As usual, Winter wakes up, but this time is different from the previous ones. Same room, for once- hers, where the first-and what should have been last- incident occurs. But her head isn't spinning, or throbbing in pain, her stomach feels perfectly normal, and aside from the usual fog of tiredness she is thinking quite clearly.

"Morning."

As she glances over at Qrow and realizes that he doesn't reek of cheap beer and expensive liquor, the realization descends upon her. Fortunately, an explanation is not long in coming.

Winter rolls over and buries her head under the covers.

Qrow's voice is thick with equal parts confusion and irritation. "What are you _doing_ , Ice Queen?" Winter grumbles and burrows herself deeper. "I don't feel hungover." She explains. "And I always am when this happens. So I've concluded that this is a dream."

She lets out a startled yelp as Qrow forcefully pinches her, leaping from the sheets and landing softly on the floor. " _What the hell was that for?"_ Qrow just shrugs. Winter is very grateful that she's actually in a fit state to kick his ass this time. "Have I convinced you that you're not dreaming?" he says, and the full import of the statement hits her so hard she nearly falls over. "What happened last night?"

Qrow shrugs again. "The usual." He points to the rest of her apartment. "I think we one-upped ourselves this time, though. You're gonna need a new couch. And resurface some of the walls. And don't quote me on this, but I think the bed is slightly tilted."

Winter is in shock. This does not compute. "But that's impossible." Qrow raises an eyebrow. "Why?" "Because I'm _sober._ " She replies, letting herself fall forward onto the mattress. Yes, there is a _definite_ downward slope towards Qrow's side. "What was I _thinking_? How did you manage to convince me?"

Qrow takes on a quizzical expression. "Well don't ask me, I don't-" Suddenly he looks every bit as shocked as her. "Wait, I actually _do_ remember. That's _so_ trippy." He holds his hands up in front of his face and inspects them as if he's waiting for them to turn into Taijitu. " _Seriously, Winter,_ this is a whole new feeling for me."

"Congratulations." She snarls, praying desperately to every deity she can think of to have her wake up right about _now._ "I'll leave you to grapple with this new outlook on life while I focus on suppressing this memory as much as possible." She points blindly in the general direction of the door. "Kindly see yourself out."

Qrow is oddly silent as he gets to his feet and begins to get dressed. Perhaps he's still adjusting to the unusual experience of a sober one-night stand. Winter, for her part, resolves to get up and get dressed as well. She's not due on base until later this evening, so she decides to go for something more comfortable. She's just pulled her jeans on when she hears Qrow leave. She has her t-shirt on halfway over her head when she hears him return.

"Uh, Ice Queen?" he says. "Have you looked outside at all?" Winter feels something cold seize her heart as she heads for the window. _No._ _Not today, of all days._ But it's with a heavy sense of inevitability that she pulls the curtains aside and sure enough, the streets are empty of cars. The outside of the building is packed with snow almost to her balcony. She lives on the second floor.

" _Shit."_ She hisses. It's a major snowstorm, the kind of thing Atlas prepares for a few times every year, but it will still take a few hours for the plows to dig the city out. She is stuck here. Sober. _With him._ Already he's saying something to her from the front door. She's tuning him out so far, but soon she'll be stuck listening to his chatter for _hours_. She's got to find a way to shut him up.

Memories of the night before spring unbidden to her mind. She breathes deeply and makes a calculated, tactical choice. It is either _this_ or homicide and hurriedly flinging the corpse into a ravine. Off comes the shirt.

"Well it looks like a regular snow day, doesn't it Ice Quee-" Qrow's stopped in his tracks as Winter storms into the hallway. She points sharply to the bedroom. "Come on. Get back in there. _Now._ " Qrow begins unlacing his boots with surprising speed. "Not that I'm complaining, but… _Why?_ " Winter sighs. "If there's one thing that our record shows, it's that the one place where I find you consistently _tolerable_ is in _there._ " She motions again to the bedroom. "So of all the ways to spend three hours in a confined space with you, it's either this, murder, or I _throw_ you from the balcony and let _you_ find your way home. Take your pick."

Qrow is already moving past her, unbuttoning his jacket.

 _Never again,_ she thinks, but she doesn't dare to say it out loud. Just in case she tempts fate and winds up here. _Again_. But she has a sinking feeling that whatever she does, it'll always come back around to this kind of moment.

At this point, she'd prefer an eternity in Hell with Drill Sergeant Daisy to this endless purgatory with Qrow Branwen.

 _Never again._

* * *

It happens again, because of course it does. But this time, they're somewhere different altogether, and as Qrow slides the saucepan back and forth across the stove he's decided that this is even weirder than waking up sober.

He really should keep this house better stocked, he thinks, seeing as he could only find a package of bacon in the freezer when he got up this morning, but he's not really in Patch often enough to justify it, and even when he is the whole place just feels _excessive_.

A two-story home a ten-minute walk from the beach is not usually his kind of thing. It feels too big and empty, and the layer of dust on most of the furniture speaks to how infrequent of a tenant he is. But Ozpin had insisted on decent accommodations, and he'd needed a place to be close to Yang and Ruby when Tai had been in his rut. He'd just hung onto it for the sake of habit.

It doesn't feel so empty now, though. Maybe that's because he knows someone else is in the house with him. _Speak of the devil_ ; he can hear the stairs creaking as she steps into the kitchen. Her hair's slightly mussed up, but other than that she looks good. They hadn't had that much to drink the night before anyway, not by their usual standards.

"What are you doing?" she says, stifling a yawn. In answer he steps to one side so she can see the frying pan and the pork sizzling within. "I was hungry. I'm making bacon." He says. It wasn't some romantic gesture, or anything. Qrow's not that big of a sap. He was hungry. He wanted food. Fast-food chains are surprisingly rare on rustic little Patch. It still seems to throw Winter for a loop.

"That's… Actually fairly typical for you." She says. "I think I'll be off, though." She's halfway to the door when her stomach growls loudly and it's all Qrow can do not to burst out laughing. Winter looks _mortified_. Qrow looks down at the pan, does some quick math. He probably made too much, anyway. Doesn't want it going bad in the fridge while he's off on a mission.

"Tell you what" he says. "Bacon's almost ready. Have a seat for a bit, and _maybe_ I'll save a few strips for you." Winter pauses for a moment, ice-blue eyes guarded and suspicious, but eventually she relents. "Fine. Let me know when it's ready." Without another word she heads into the living room. Qrow's confused when he doesn't hear the TV turn on until Winter lets out a breath and starts to count. A quick peek around the corner reveals she's doing push-ups.

" _-Three. Four. Five. Six…"_ The count quickly fades into the background as Qrow focuses his attention on his cooking. He wouldn't usually make such a big deal out of burnt bacon strips, but Winter's presence compels him to do better. She probably has caviar and vintage wine for breakfast at home; the least he can do is supply her with not-burnt food.

"...Aaaand _done."_ He says, flipping the bacon onto his and Winter's plates in equal portions with a sense of satisfaction. Winter quickly joins him at the counter, pulling up a chair. He fills up two glasses of water, scrounges up some forks from one of the kitchen cabinets, and they eat. Winter is surprisingly voracious, and Qrow finds himself grateful that he just cooked the whole packet.

She catches his slightly awestruck stare. "Boot camp." She says, by way of explanation. "Part of Cuts Week- during the last week of training you get 2500 calories a day, which is the absolute minimum a person needs to sustain themselves. I've been hungry ever since." Qrow laughs, and not in a mean-spirited way for once. He never even considered that she had a sense of humor beyond sarcastic jibes.

"Glad you like it." he says, and surprisingly he _means it_. "You know how much I like to drink, so I know all the good hangover foods. It comes in handy." Winter rolls her eyes, but she's smiling faintly. "Well, at least you can cook worth a damn." She says. "Until Basic Training I only knew how to make _one thing_ that didn't come pre-made out of a box. I'd never even seen how they cooked the food before."

"No way," Qrow says, leaning forward with a grin. Winter just nods with an imperious smile. "Welcome to life in the Schnee household. You should have seen the recruiting sergeant's face when ' _learning to cook for myself'_ was one of the career goals on my application."

Qrow laughs again. Winter devours another strip. "This is good." She declares. She's quiet for a moment, looking down at her plate. Qrow watches her fingers tap out a rhythm on the countertop. "You're making more bacon. Next time, I mean."

Qrow almost spits out his sip of water. "I thought that part of this whole… _Thing_ was that there _were_ no next-times." Winter sighs and slumps in her chair. "True enough." She says. "But at this point I think we both know that this is kind of inevitable. We keep ending up here." She idly kicks at the counter. "It's like purgatory."

"Well, I guess that's one way to put it." He mutters, pulling his flask from his pocket and unscrewing the top. When he takes a swig, Winter's eyes seem to bug out. "You can't be serious." Qrow just shrugs, knowing how much it'll annoy her. "What, Ice Queen?"

"It's just past seven o'clock in the morning and you're drinking _whiskey_." She says accusingly. As if he ought to be ashamed. "Hey, I've had way worse than this in the mornings. Just try it with vodka. Or tequila." Winter nearly gags. "I'll pass, thank you."

Qrow flashes her a grin and returns to his breakfast. They eat in silence for a little while, the only sound forks scraping against plates. Winter sits up in her chair, looking wistful. "Omelettes." She says, as if she'd just revealed some great universal truth. Qrow scratches his head, trying to figure out what she's talking about. "Come again, Ice Queen?"

"Omelettes" she continues, seeming suddenly bashful. "That's the one food I know how to make. Klein, our butler, showed me how one time when I was little." Qrow stops and thinks for a moment, looking down at his plate. It's risky, what comes to mind. But he's nothing if not a gambler. "Tell you what." He says. "When this happens again, wherever it happens- you make omelettes, I make whatever I can cobble together from the contents of the fridge. Or minibar, if it comes to that. Deal?"

Winter seems to think it over for a moment. "Deal." Then her expression slides into something more hostile, but… _Playful,_ too. "Just so we're clear" she says, leaning towards him "I'm only in this for the bacon." Qrow laughs again, loudly this time. "You took the words right out of my mouth." He says, and they enjoy the rest of the meal in comfortable silence.

Qrow washes up (in other words, tosses the plates and forks in the sink and promises to deal with them later) while Winter heads upstairs and collects the rest of her things. Soon he's wiping down the countertop while she's standing at the door, pulling her shoes on.

"I'd better get back to the mainland." She says. "Where's the ferry terminal?" Qrow points to the dirt road outside. "Beach is just down that road. Head East when you get there and you'll find it. It's about a half-hour walk."

"I'll jog, then." She says, opening the door to let in a blast of morning air. "And Qrow?" she looks at him for a long moment, and then she _winks_. "See you next time."

"Next time." He says, and as the door slams shut Qrow can't decide whether he's looking forward to the night before or the morning after.

 _Yeah. Next time._


	2. A More Regular Arrangement

It's been about a year since they first shared bacon in Qrow's kitchen, and Winter wishes it hadn't gotten this easy. Her eyes open drowsily as she grimaces at the headache throbbing in her skull, and though she knows what to expect by now she still rolls over slightly to check who is sharing the bed with her.

It's _him_ , like always, snoring as he lies sprawled across the pillow, the sheets pooling at his waist. He's always been better at sleeping through the sunrise than her, eyes shut tight to the sunbeams spearing through the blinds, chest rising and falling steadily as he dreams of… something. Probably a dream about living in a distillery with free refills for his flask, or maybe a nightmare where the Kingdoms have enacted worldwide prohibition of alcohol.

Then she hears him let out a muted _squawk_ , sees his shoulder-muscles twitch ever-so-slightly, and before she can help it a sly grin sneaks its way across her face. She knows he usually dreams of flying.

 _Usually_. That word wipes the grin from her face. By now she has resigned herself to the constant parade of one-night stands with him, but that doesn't mean she enjoys making any concessions towards the regularity of their arrangement. _Regular_ is complicated. _Regular_ implies questions neither of them want to answer. So, taking a leaf out of her drill sergeant's book, she follows the unofficial standard procedure for asking awkward questions in the Atlas military: _"Shut the fuck up and get to work, Specialist."_

Biting back a groan, she pries herself from the warm, comfortable mattress (now held securely in a reinforced bedframe after an unfortunate incident) and pads over to the kitchenette, gulping down a glass of water that helps to take the edge off of her throbbing temples. Then she heads back to the bedside and begins her morning workout.

She drops to the floor, gritting her teeth as she makes slightly more noise against the hardwood than she ought to, then tries to lose herself and that loaded _usually_ in the rhythm of pushups, the burning of her muscles still sore from last night, the feeling of the air leaving her lungs as she quietly counts each repetition.

No luck. The memory has already been called into her brain.

 _She realizes with a start that she is enjoying watching Qrow prop up the bar, waving the glass in his hand in grand, sweeping motions as he tells her this story. As she recalls it she is quick to dismiss it as the alcohol talking, though at this point in the night she had hardly taken a few sips._

" _You gotta understand, Winter." Qrow says, pounding one hand on the bartop for emphasis. "There's nothin' in the world better than flyin', really flyin', and whenever I get to do it it never feels like enough time. So yeah, I dream about it."_

" _What kind of things do you do when you're having a flying dream?" She asks, retroactively blaming her curiosity on the alcohol even though her first beer of the night sits mostly untouched beside her. He grins roguishly in reply, takes another swig of the ale in his hand._

" _Depends." He replies. "Sometimes I just dream of buzzing annoying pedestrians, pecking the paint off of Ironwood's staff car, that sort of thing. If I fall asleep right after shifting back, or if I've been flying for a while that day, my dreams are more like an animal's, stealing food or just shiny stuff. I had a really good one where I was in Petillant- y'know, the jewelry shop- only the store was empty and the display cases were all open." Winter likes the feeling she gets when he makes her laugh. She likes the smile he gives her while she's laughing too. "What else?" she prods, only for her excitement to fade as his smile falls slightly. She can tell he's putting a brave face on it now. "Some days, like when Ruby and Yang were born, or when Tai was having his…moments, I have these weird dreams where I'm human, with my nieces or my old team, but then… Well, for some reason, I can't explain it, I shift and just start flying further and further away, higher and higher, until I can't see them, or anybody else, and it feels… Peaceful. Disconnected from everyone." He looks away from her, but she gets a brief glimpse of the look in his eyes, enough to know that he's lying, that there is an explanation, that feeling peaceful isn't a real part of him flying away. Or at least, not the only part of it._

 _This is too much for her. She tolerates these meetings because they both have a good time, not because she wants to see him like this, to wonder about who this drunk, brash, rude Huntsman really is, or worse, feel sorry for him. So she steps forward and nudges against him, putting on her best teasing smile. "Well, you'd better not fly away from me now" she says, resting a palm against his chest and stepping in closer, "Because I have plans for us tonight. And you know how serious I get about_ _ **those**_ _."_

It is with a start that she realizes that she's lost count of her pushups, has probably gone over the usual number of reps, so she moves to planking, then situps, then crunches, then squats, and by the time she's done her workout she's positively famished. Qrow, meanwhile, is somehow still sleeping soundly, drooling onto a pillow that she is now going to have to clean. _Asshole_.

She gets to her feet and heads back over to the kitchen, feeling the coolness of the tile on the soles of her feet as she grabs another glass of water and checks the fridge: eggs, shredded cheese, tomatoes, spinach and red pepper. She grabs the necessary utensils, turns on the stove and waits for the frying pan to heat up while she lays out cutlery and plates for two without even thinking about it, because at this point she knows Qrow is seemingly incapable of refusing food after a night out. Perhaps if she finishes the omelets before he wakes up, she can even manage to get him to eat some vegetables without him noticing. If she's going to make out with someone she'd rather they be free of scurvy, thank you very much.

She still remembers the familiar motions as she whisks the egg yolk and pours it onto the pan, Klein's hands on her wrists showing her how to crack an egg properly, patient and encouraging even as she'd gone through almost a whole carton by either spilling them on the countertop or burning them in the pan. She had begged him to teach her because she felt bad waking the servants up to cook for her, though in truth it had more to do with irritating her father. It had been the first step on her road to youthful rebellion, though joining the army probably wouldn't strike most ordinary people as rebellious. Especially Qrow, who delights in ruining her furniture or adding damages to his room charges during their late-night encounters, who makes constant jibes about her boss or her father and seems delighted beyond reason when she lets the mask slip and shows her frustration with her family life or the drudgery of a soldier's routine.

And speak of the devil, here he is now, awake and rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles over to the counter and takes a seat. She glances up from the sizzling eggs to see him looking at her expectantly. "Well?" she says, raising an eyebrow as he dramatically rolls his eyes.

"Good morning to you too, Ice Queen." He says. Winter just shrugs her shoulders, as understated as he is theatrical. "Oh. You're up." She drawls. "I can hardly contain myself." He just mutters something derogatory under his breath before his eyes fall to the neatly chopped vegetables on the cutting board.

"You'd better make mine plain this time." He grumbles. Winter gives him her best unimpressed stare as she grabs the cutting board and dumps the produce into the pan indiscriminately, her eyes widening slightly in mock-concern. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind speaking more clearly next time?"

Qrow fixes her with a bleary-eyed look of his own and flips her the bird. Winter just turns back to the pan, frowning as a few stray locks of hair fall across her vision. She tries to get them out of her eyes with a brief puff, then attempts unsuccessfully to flip them over her shoulder when suddenly Qrow is there, neatly tucking her hair behind her ear. Winter lets out a slight _oh_ of surprise, her cheeks flushed slightly with the heat of the stove.

"Thank you." She says, though her breath catches as she feels him press against her back, turns her head to find herself just inches away from him, and the words come out as barely a whisper. Qrow, for his part, isn't looking smug in any way, which is strange for him. Instead he neither smiles nor frowns, just… _looks_ at her with those red eyes of his. "Yeah." He replies, his voice a little huskier than usual. "You're very…" he trails off as Winter bites her lip nervously, knowing logically that he is probably going to say _welcome_ but some stupid, juvenile part of her hopes the missing word will be something else. Something more… _Positive_.

And then his Scroll buzzes.

A flash of irritation gleams like lightning in those eyes of his and suddenly he is moving away, back to his discarded jeans to fish through the pockets, and Winter is left frozen, staring off into empty space for a moment, doing her best to ignore the goosebumps from where his chest was pressed against her back and trying desperately to blot out the thought of the layer of dark stubble on his chin and the messy tangle of his hair and the deep, red crimson of his eyes, and how she is appreciating these things in more than just the way the stubble scrapes against her thighs or how good it feels to reach down and lace her fingers through his hair to pull him closer, or the way his eyes darken with delight when she moves in just the right way while they're together. It's almost a blessing when she notices the omelets are starting to scorch, even more so when Qrow growls out an obscenity in his usual way, letting the air swirl out through gritted teeth and pursed-

Oh wait, something's wrong and she should probably find out what it is. She lost her train of thought for a sex- for _a_ _second there._ She turns to see Qrow furiously typing on his Scroll, teeth clenched, the stool tipped back on two legs as he perches his feet up on the counter perilously close to the two omelets she has just plated. She swiftly grabs his ankles, rotating him in his seat as she leans across the counter and places his feet on an empty stool, sliding the omelet which had been sitting closest to them in his direction. "Keep your feet off my counter, please. What's wrong?"

Qrow snaps his Scroll shut and lets it _clatter_ onto the counter, nodding his thanks as he digs in. "The _problem_ is that your boss needs to learn what the send button does." He says. "The whole reason I was in town was to meet with him, and he just called it off this morning because apparently there's a "matter of state security" scheduled for today, which he apparently only just remembered."

It must be something to do with Project P.E.N.N.Y. She knows that, and remembers that her trial run at Sentinel Combat School is scheduled for today, though she is not invited. She also remembers that Qrow is definitely not on the Need-To-Know list, so she does her best to change the subject. "So are you headed to the airport now, or your hotel?" she asks. Qrow just shakes his head. "I booked a redeye flight back tonight since I thought the meeting would go long, and since I was meeting up with you I didn't bother to book a hotel."

That makes Winter raise an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the presumptuousness of his decision, and even more irritated that his assumption proved correct. "Can you book an earlier flight?" she asks, but she knows the answer before he even shakes his head. Both Sentinel and Atlas begin the Fall Break long weekend today, and flights are packed with younger students heading out on holiday with their families and older students returning to their homes in other Kingdoms. Qrow was lucky to get a ticket today at all.

"S'fine." He says, through a mouthful of omelet. "I'll find a bar near the airport or something and just hang out there." Knowing him, _hang out_ means _drink copiously and do my best to irritate anyone who looks like a stuck-up prick_ , and since _everyone_ in Atlas looks like a stuck-up prick to Qrow he is very likely to wind up either unconscious or kicked out well before his airship departs. Which is fine, it's not Winter's problem, but she finds herself mentally checking her schedule anyway and speaks before she can stop herself.

"Don't bother. You can stay here for the day." That little bombshell gets quite the reaction as Qrow's eyebrows scrunch together and his chewing stops, knife and fork hanging in the air. He is either floored by her unexpected generosity or has found one of the larger chunks of vegetables hidden within the omelet. "Are you… Okay?" he asks, and for some reason that puts Winter's back up.

"Oh, excuse me for doing my best from keeping you out of the drunk tank or the gutter for a night. You are in _my_ apartment, and that means it's _my_ responsibility to keep you from embarrassing yourself and General Ironwood when he has to come bail you out." She snaps. Qrow jerks his head back, raising his hands in surrender. "Geez, calm _down_ Ice Queen. If you really want me hanging around your place for the whole day, I won't complain."

Winter does her best to calm down and take deep breaths, and finally she starts to make some sense out of the situation. Qrow is staying over. For a whole day, and she thinks even _she_ doesn't have the stamina to repeat her previous method of killing time. What can she _possibly_ do to distract him?

And then she thinks of the pillow, and like lightning there it is. An idea.

"Oh, you won't be lounging around the whole time." She says, a bit of classic military _don't-fuck-with-me-or-I'll-make-your-life-hell_ steel creeping into her voice that makes Qrow sit up and take notice. "Firstly, you need to take a shower and make yourself presentable. Then there are sheets and a pillowcase to launder and dishes to do. Then you can help me get the living area back in order after whatever happened to it last night. And finally, I had no idea I was going to be cooking for two people today, so we're going to go to the grocery store and find some ingredients to cook with beyond half a bag of shredded cheese and a carton of eggs." She watches the expression on his face change to one of annoyance, but it gets a lot cheerier when she leans across the counter and lays a hand on his arm. "And if we get all of that done, then I'm sure we can find _other things_ to entertain ourselves with. Alright?"

Qrow just nods, and after a moment of silence she straightens up and pushes his plate back towards him. "Now eat up. I know that usually the only vegetable in your diet is hops, but it's just a bit of red pepper, for God's sake. It won't kill you. I, on the other hand, will if you don't finish it."

He grumbles something as he digs back into the food, and in spite of herself she smiles as she pops another forkful of omelet into her mouth. She gets free labor and keeps him quiet the whole day? This is a good bargain.

And though she would never admit it, the prospect of his company is… pleasant.

* * *

As it turns out, Qrow is surprisingly good at domestic tasks, having finished with every conceivable chore she could throw at him well before dinner. The only hiccup had been when they'd squabbled in the supermarket over what they would have that night. She'd wanted to make a stir-fry and maybe a salad, he'd wanted tacos. _Tacos,_ for Christ's sake. Who in their right mind got a craving for Vacuan food in the middle of winter in Atlas?

He did, apparently, in his infuriatingly childlike manner. Though as Winter bites through the shell and feels the slight heat of the salsa on her tongue, she is forced to admit that perhaps he had a point. He knows it too, grinning smugly at her from where he's curled up on the other end of the couch.

Having run out of chores, and with dinner being far simpler to cook when they were just reheating ground beef and opening packages of toppings and taco shells, they'd had to find something to do, and for whatever reason neither of them reached for the obvious solution. Qrow had been absolutely horrified at her lack of board games as he rifled through her cupboards, hoping against hope to find something other than the elegant chess set on her coffee table.

"How is it that I grew up poor and you grew up owning most of Atlas and somehow _you're_ the one who had a deprived childhood?" He'd grumbled. "I was not _deprived._ " She had responded, indignant. "I've played board games before. Me and Weiss used to play chess all the time, and I actually got to Candidate Master ranking in the national chess league when I was in the army-"

"-Name one board game you've played more than once that wasn't chess." Qrow interjected. "Backgammon." She had replied, smug in her thwarting of his argument until he fixed her with a downright pitying look. "Oh my God." He'd said, as if she'd just told him that she'd watched her pet dog die as a child. Winter had told him to shut up and stalked off angrily.

And now here they were, watching some favorite old movie of Qrow's about a man who'd come home to Vale after the Great War and formed a gang when he couldn't find work. Or something. Winter was having a hard time keeping track of the story. "Qrow?" she asked, wanting him to explain what the hell was going on as the protagonist and his friend had a blazing argument over some minor plot point she'd long since forgotten. He didn't respond.

" _Qrow."_ She said, a little more forcefully, but he kept his rapt attention fixed on the screen. She huffed in annoyance, uncurling from her spot on the couch and stretching out so that she lay across his chest. _"Qrow."_ She whispered, and this time he looked up. "What is it?"

"I have no idea what they're arguing about." She said. Sighing, he reached for the remote and paused the film. "Callahan's fallen in love with Constable Moira-y'know, the dirty cop?" he said. Winter nodded, thinking back to a now dimly-recalled scene. "Yes, I remember that part now." She said. Qrow nodded in satisfaction. "Right, so Michael doesn't like that, he thinks it'll only end in tears for both of them, and that Callahan needs to focus on the bank job. Callahan thinks he's just being a prick. Now listen closely, because I know I'm better at following events than you are, but this, right here, is the best scene in the whole movie."

"You are _not_. And you say that about _every_ scene." She grumbles, but she does her best to pay attention solely out of spite. Qrow hits play, and despite herself she gets absorbed by the intensity of the scene as Callahan slams Michael against the bar and pulls a knife. _"So what, I'm supposed to just_ _**forget about her!?"**_ he yells. _"I'm doing this because I'm trying to get away from that! I drink until I collapse every other fuckin' day trying to forget about the people I killed, the friends I lost! I started this thing because when I came home it seemed that all the world wanted to forget about me, about you, about all of us poor boys from the docks, about the things we'd done to others fighting over there and the things they'd done to us, forget about the jobs we'd had at the factory so that some of the bastards we were supposed to be fighting a few months ago could move in and take them , and after all that we're told to_ _ **forget about it! Is that all the world is, struggling and forgetting and being forgotten?**_ _"_ Winter has to admit that the desperate tone of his voice and the tears rolling down Callahan's face are actually sort of moving. And then she realizes that she never moved back to her side of the couch, that she's still lying on top of Qrow, drawn closer to him by the crackling intensity of the film, the colors, the tone, and now she's starting to realize why he likes these old movies so much.

And then Michael and Callahan are shoving, fighting, and then Michael is doubling over as the knife goes in after a wild stab, and Winter is left staring, horrified as the scene fades out on Callahan clutching Michael's hand, telling him he's sorry, telling him to stay alive. Qrow notices her shock, grins. "I told you _The Demonized_ was a classic." He drawls. Winter can't help but notice that he hasn't made any attempt to lift her off of him. And then something even more shocking than the previous scene happens; he slips an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer.

Winter feels herself flush slightly from the heat of him as she makes a noise of surprise, but laying with him is… Unexpectedly comfortable. She settles into him and rolls onto her side, glancing down at Qrow, who is currently staring up at her, frozen. For a moment their eyes are locked together, and she can't help but smile as she notices all the same features she was trying to ignore this morning.

He is quite handsome. There's no use telling herself otherwise anymore. Not that he needs to know that.

"Well?" She says, her impatient tone making Qrow break out into a grin. "Hit play! I want to see how it ends!"

* * *

Qrow has never found Winter Schnee more attractive than at this moment.

Right now she's busy polishing off a considerable glass of Atlesian beer, white hair flowing behind her and leaving him free to admire the classy, well-fitted shirt and pants she's wearing, the way her scarf as slipped to show the curve of her neck and collarbone. He likes seeing her out of uniform, she looks damn good in civilian clothes, genuinely beautiful, while in her uniform she just looks exceptionally fuckable.

Maybe he should be worried about using words like "beautiful" for a stuck-up Atlas Specialist who he usually just shares mornings after and nights before with. Whatever. He's always been a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, and he doesn't really worry all that much about labels.

And as Winter sets the now-empty glass down and puffs for air, slightly breathless, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes alight with excitement, Qrow has to admit that "beautiful" is a very fitting label. He never knew watching her chug half a pint of beer would help him see the more attractive side of her. Hell, he once thought he'd never watch her chug any sort of beverage, period. Winter Schnee is not the type of person you'd expect to be doing this sort of thing.

But you'd also never expect that prim, proper Atlas would have a place like this; the _Konigsbierhalle_ , a riot of noise, laughter and music as locals throng the massive establishment. Simply calling it a pub doesn't do it justice; a vast space with two floors, an outdoor courtyard and three interlinked halls hewn from stout oak and centuries-old stone, all devoted to the consumption of Atlas', formerly Mantle's, finest alcohol.

"Explain it to me again!" he asks, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise of the patrons. "Why does everyone in Atlas gather here and get tanked _today specifically? I though you guys were all stuck-up prudes!"_ Winter rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. She looks pretty when she smiles, too. Not in a seductive way or anything like that, just a genuine, happy smile. Shit, he's getting distracted.

"It's not just at _this_ beer-hall." Winter replies. "There are beer halls all over Atlas, and the rest of Mantle too. Nearly every settlement has them, as a place for people to get together after a long day of work. The Konigsbierhalle is just special to today, and it's a very important part of Mantle's history." She seems genuinely excited, and Qrow has to admit that it's nice to see her passionate about something, even if she is a nerd.

"So I take it they closed them down during the Great War, right? With all the drinking songs and rowdiness and everything?" he asks. To his surprise, Winter shakes her head. "The government thought it improved social cohesion, so they let them stay at first, but as the war went on they started trying to silence drinking songs and keep these places quiet. Eventually, just after the Vacuo Campaign, a whole battalion of the survivors of Eiche's 5th Army were in the Konigshalle when they heard that the King of Mantle had intended to keep fighting despite casualties, and they started singing a rather insulting drinking song in protest. Then that turned into singing a song for their fallen comrades, then the civilians joined in, until the Secret Police tried to arrest the people leading the song. The soldiers and citizens were so angry that they just sang all the louder, and eventually someone got the crowd moving to the King's palace. The leader of the survivors took control and forced the king to abdicate, and to celebrate everyone got drunk and sang and danced and did all the things they hadn't been allowed to do."

"So every year on the anniversary you go out to your local beer hall and get drunk?" Qrow asks, feeling like he's starting to like Atlas a lot more than he used to. Winter nods in reply. "Families just have a meal and do some dancing, but adults- _especially_ the army- consider it their civic duty to get drunk. Speaking of which-" Qrow jumps slightly as Winter begins slamming her mug on the table to a certain rhythm, smiling as the surrounding tables, and eventually Qrow, join in. She starts to sing with a beautiful voice, rising high above the rest, and though he lacks much command of the language of Old Mantle he can definitely discern frequent mentions of alcohol and the damage that will ensue to herself and others if she doesn't get some now. He has heard her sing before, but he likes this song the best.

He takes another pull of his beer, finishing right as the waitress gets there and swiftly replaces their empty mugs. Winter gives him a smile as they clink glasses and take a swig. The beer's good, golden and strong, and he happily polishes off a substantial portion of his glass. The Ice Queen surprises him when she actually downs _more than him_ in one go. Winter can keep up with him, sure, but she usually paces herself when she drinks. Not today, apparently.

"Really goin' for it tonight, aren't you, Ice Queen?" he asks. She throws him one of her usual scowls, which he finds more attractive than is probably good for his health. "For your information, I haven't drank like this since I was a cadet." She says. Now _there'_ s a storyhe's interested in hearing. "Oh yeah? What exactly happened when you were a cadet?"

Now she looks slightly bashful, nervously brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It wasn't that bad. Really." That kind of look combined with that reply only makes him go in for the kill. "Then if you tell me about it, it won't be a big deal, right?"

She's trapped herself now, and she knows it. _Too easy._ "W-well…" she stammers. "It was my first year in the cadets, and one of my friends smuggled in a whole bunch of beer and liquor, and dared me to prove I wasn't a "spoiled, uptight daddy's girl." So I drank something like ten beers and more shots than I could count, and made an absolute mess of myself. That morning, at roll-call, Drill Sergeant Daisy noticed how bleary my eyes were and started chewing me out, and combined with my headache the noise was killing me…" She trails off, nervously curling a lock of hair around her finger. He smiles and leans forward. This is _absolutely_ too much fun. "Go on…"

"I couldn't handle it, so I just dropped to my knees and threw up all over her boots." She says. He's grinning ear-to-ear now. "And then… Well, I was so hungover I wasn't thinking straight… She'd gone silent out of shock, and I said…" Another pause. He leans forward, prompting her to speak. "I said ' _Oh thank God, you stopped talking.'_ " That is simply _too good_. He starts laughing so hard he's amazed he doesn't fall out of the booth they're sharing, until he's breathless. Winter seems very interested in the surface of the table. "Sergeant Daisy made the whole unit do suicides until we all puked. And then _she_ took _my boots_ one night and puked on _them_." Qrow is halfway through a swig and almost chokes on his beer. " _What?_ " Winter just nods. "That woman was absolutely insane. I mean completely off her damn rocker."

He laughs again, a little quieter this time, and Winter can't help but join in. He likes it when she laughs. He likes it a lot.

 _Woah. Easy there, buddy_.

He does his best to shake off the thoughts that stick in his head, of her laying on top of him as they watched one of the greatest movies of all time, the feeling of being pressed close against her back when some weird part of his brain made him stand up and tuck her hair behind her ear, how much he likes her smile and her laughter and how she sings drinking songs with lyrics he can't pronounce, and not in the usual _hey-I'd-hit-that_ way or the _hey-I'd-hit-that-repeatedly_ thing that he and Winter have going. This is something different. And he might be a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, but this is something he really feels he ought to stop and consider.

And then a nudge on his shoulder reminds him that he's talking with Winter _right now_ and he should really close his mouth and stop staring at her and maybe have another swig of his beer because _holy shit_ it got hot in here all of a sudden.

"Are you okay? You zoned out for a moment." Another sly smile erases her look of concern. "Were you having another bird dream?" He knows that with the thoughts that are racing through his head right now he'll only zone out again if he looks her in the eye, so his eyes wander down to her collarbone and the silver necklace dangling just above it. And now he's smiling, because he's just come up with an out and a way to be _smooth as hell_ at the same time. "Yeah, actually." He says. "I had another dream where there was something _shiny_ -" he leans across the table and lightly grasps her silver pendant, savoring the look of surprise in her eyes, and then grabs the pendant tightly and pulls her closer until they are just an inch apart. "- _right in front of me-"_ and then he stops, because he realizes that the _Konigshalle_ has gone almost totally silent.

For a moment, he thinks that the entire bar has stopped to watch this truly _masterful_ act of seduction. Until he realizes that they're all looking down the end of the bar, where a few drinkers wearing old Mantle army uniforms hold their mugs aloft. Winter picks up hers, then grabs the hand on her necklace, folds his fingers around the handle of his mug and raises it aloft. _Pushy._ She looks slightly flustered, though, which only makes him grin wider. He's still got it.

And then the drinkers in Mantle uniforms begin to slam their mugs on the table, softly at first, but then louder and louder as the bar joins in. He sees Winter shrug on her coat and pull up her scarf, decides to follow her lead, and all of a sudden one of the men in uniform begins shouting a word. _"Freiheit!"_ he cries, his compatriots join in, and suddenly the bar is shouting the word in a chorus, Winter shouting it right alongside them, and then as if at one prearranged symbol the drinkers leap to their feet and rush for the doors. Winter hauls him to his feet, keeping a tight grip on his arm as they surge with the crowd, his other hand still wrapped around his beer because he's not wasting perfectly good booze.

For a moment he stumbles after Winter through the heat and momentum of the crowd until they spill out onto the street with the other drinkers, who as one turn and head in what he thinks is the direction of the old Royal Palace.

Winter looks back over her shoulder at him, smiling wide and laughing, her eyes full of light, cheeks flushed against the cold, the moonlight shining on hair every bit as white as the snow that falls around him, creating the illusion that her hair is strands of woven silver, gleaming like the pendant around her neck.

So maybe he's a bit of a poet when he gets sentimental. Sue him.

But he's also got an eye for opportunity, and he sees a shadowy alcove in a stone wall coming up on him, and realizes that he's not the kind of guy to hold himself back because of a few concerns, that's Winter's thing.

So as they pass the alcove he practically scoops her up with one hand, steps into the shadow and kisses her for a long, long time, seeing her bright blue eyes open wide in surprise, and waits until she pushes him away.

Only for her eyes to soften, and then close altogether as she wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer. This is good. He should probably stop now though. Maybe breathe. Breathing is important. Reluctantly, he breaks away, sucks down a lungful of cold winter air, then returns to her, pressing his lips to her collarbone, savoring the way her breath hitches in her lungs.

"Qrow… I'm flattered, but… why?" she asks him. It's disappointing that the can still speak in complete sentences. He does his best to fix that, and by the sound of it he's succeeding. Eventually he comes up for air again, looking at her face, flushed and eager and unspeakably attractive.

And then comes the problem with going with the flow. Sometimes things slip out that he doesn't mean to say. Like when he returns to kissing her neck, a little higher than last time, and whispers "You're beautiful" before he can register the intent and keep his mouth shut. Or at least, occupied in other ways.

Winter stiffens against him, and he sighs and lets his head drop. _Well done, Qrow. Really. First-class idea._ He braces for a slap, for a fight, or at least a series of awkward questions, followed by the end of this arrangement of theirs.

Instead, she laughs, light and airy, and he feels his own spirits lift with it as he returns to her neck. She lets out a contented sigh and seems to melt into his arms.

"You're not so bad yourself." She mutters, and he can't help but laugh as she wraps a leg around him, bringing them closer.

What can he say? _Smooth as hell._

* * *

They're back in Qrow's house in Patch, and Winter's still waiting on the part where they head up to his bedroom, but it's coming up on 1:00 in the morning and instead they're once more curled up on the couch, watching another gangster movie, this one set in Menagerie. She had balked at the idea of watching the same sort of film twice, but Qrow had reassured her as he filled two bowls of popcorn that " _From The Zoo_ is completely different. Trust me."

He seems to be telling the truth, the movie's plot and message are significantly different to her untrained eye, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't distracted by being this closeto Qrow. She reaches down for another handful of popcorn, brushing against his chest on the way, thinking about the feeling of his arms around her.

And how it doesn't feel that bad, really. It feels nice, being close to him. Relaxing. Actually, that sums up the whole night. They'd only had a few beers between them when they met up at the bar, and when they'd gotten to Qrow's home neither of them were too eager to jump into bed, so she'd just sat at the counter with him, talking about Weiss and Yang and Ruby, trading stories from their time in school, until Qrow had suggested a movie.

And curse her over-analytical mind, but this only leaves Winter asking herself questions. _Does this feel as good as when we were having one-night stands?_ It does, actually. It feels good to just relax, watch a movie and talk with Qrow, laugh at his jokes in spite of herself, discretely admire his looks, and there's usually still sex afterwards but tonight might be an exception.

And she's okay with that too.

Now _that's_ a scary thought, because the whole point of this was originally the fact that they were compatible in the sack, and if there's more than that the whole tone changes. Or does it?

No. Now she's overreacting. There is an easy way to find this out. All she has to do is look down and then…

Qrow seems very surprised when she presses her lips to his, running a hand through his tangle of black hair as she moves her hand to cup his cheek. It feels good, she decides, different from what they've done before. But eventually she is forced to break apart from him to breathe in, and that means she has to say something.

"Hey."

A truly masterful opening, if she says so herself. She's surprised Qrow hasn't fallen at her feet already.

"Um." Qrow replies, which at least does something to soothe the sting of her botched opening. "Hey to you too. Why did you- actually, lemme pause, I don't want you to miss too much of the film." She rolls her eyes when he turns to reach for the remote, but eventually comes up with a decent opener.

"This has been a lot of fun." She says. "I know it's not what we usually do, but it's enjoyable to just relax and watch a movie with you. To be… Well, to be close to you in general." She says, feeling the tension in her stomach as she watches his reaction. Qrow just nods. "Okay." He says.

Well, that's not a negative response, at least. She decides to press on. "And this isn't the first time we've done this sort of thing; you spent the day at my apartment, our moment at Armistice Day… This kind of thing has been happening more and more frequently, and it's gotten easier. I mean, I remember when I could barely spend a few hours in the same place as you without going insane. And you felt the same way!" she says, once again watching Qrow's reaction. He nods. "Right."

"And I just feel like we've been finding each other attractive in ways we haven't before, you know? Like how you called me beautiful, and I've started thinking you're pretty handsome, and we've even started to enjoy each other's senses of humor. Occasionally, anyway."

"Sure." Qrow replies. Winter's not going to lie, this is starting to get frustrating.

"Anyway, I'm just trying to make the point that I think both of us would be okay with all of this actually… _Going somewhere_ , you know? I mean, I know _I_ feel that way, that I want to try more stuff like this and just… See where it goes. And if we don't like it, we can backtrack, but maybe we can give it a try."

This time she's met with a silent nod, barely biting back a growl of frustration.

"Look, it doesn't have to be an actual 'relationship' because we're both busy and neither of us have any time to set anything in stone, but we can just have…" she searches in vain for the right word, but gives up and rests her head on Qrow's shoulder with a sigh. "A _thing_ , I don't know. A truce, a partnership, whatever you want to call it. Does that sound good?"

Before he can open his mouth she shoots him a glare. "If you don't give me a proper answer I swear I will throw you through the upstairs window." He waits for a moment, seems to consider his words.

And then he pulls her down and kisses her. For a moment she can't breathe, although the feeling of being pressed together like this is wonderful, and she can't help but groan in protest a little when he pulls away.

"Fine." He says. "I agree with basically everything you just said, so next time we're free I'll actually take you to dinner. A nice one, too, not like that time I made the taxi driver stop for burgers. Alright?"

"Sure." She says, impulsively leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Let's do that." She feels as though a weight has been taken off her shoulders, smiling despite herself as she watches Qrow fumble for the remote, constrained by the way she rests on top of him.

"Alright. Now let's cement this _thing_ of ours by finishing _From The Zoo_." She rests a little closer to him, enjoying the film together until she feels herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by a combination of tiredness, the sounds of the movie and the steady rise and fall of Qrow's chest.

Gunshots, screams and various obscenities are not the most conventional soundtrack for a developing relationship, but even Winter cannot deny that it's somewhat appropriate for her and Qrow.

It's both humorous and maybe a little bit worrying.

But Winter wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **AN: Wooh, this took about a full day of sustained work, but I finally got it done. I'll admit I wasn't quite sure how to end it, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. If I'm not mistaken this is a good deal larger than chapter 1 (The first story in the series on AO3) so I hope you can understand why it took so long to find inspiration for this.**

 **Speaking of inspiration, the positive response The First and Only Time received really helped me to continue the story, so please let me know if you liked the story, if you didn't like it, what you liked, what you didn't, and ideas to continue this. Reviewing's free, folks. Anonymous. You don't need an account. It won't cost you a dime. I'm begging you here.**

 **Oh, and just so you know, the movies Qrow's watching are based on classic flicks like _The Godfather_ and _Goodfellas_. The gang in _The Demonized_ is based on a typical Irish-American organized crime gang, and I guess would have some story beats similar to _Heat_ or something, while _From the Zoo_ is basically _Boyz in the Hood_. From Da Zoo is also the name of a real New York street gang, and it seemed appropriate for Faunus organized crime. There's also a Remnant version of _Goodfellas_. Maybe we'll see that next chapter. Whenever that is.**

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

 **Maple**


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